


Chamber One: The Girl on the Train

by TheLadyFrost



Series: Absolution Chambers [2]
Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: Absolution, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Mild Smut, Romance, chambers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-21 21:05:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11952621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLadyFrost/pseuds/TheLadyFrost
Summary: The First Possible Ending to Absolution





	Chamber One: The Girl on the Train

What I'm going to do here is follow the threads of ALTERNATE ENDINGS. What happens AFTER the end? I really loved the idea of the reader's choice in regards to that. And I also felt like the right path for Leon had to be left open. The path, of course we saw, was always leading to his purpose. His purpose was Faith. The women who loved him built him into the man who could love the girl, finally.

But what happens next?

How about we see a few versions of where life takes Leon Kennedy? Sorta like…It's A Wonderful Life…Or Clue, if you prefer…Let's see where the road goes depending on what chamber of his heart he pursues. I use music as my muse most of the time…so you'll notice I reference that a lot in this story.

With the open end of the bad guys still there, the potential for another story looms. I'll have to wait for the muses to tell me where that tale takes us though.

Is there a woman alive who isn't in love with Leon Kennedy? These endings will guarantee the answer to that question is a rousing: no.

Slainte.

….

XII. Chamber One: The Girl on the Train

A fonte puro pura defluit aqua

"Because what's worse than knowing you want something, besides knowing you can never have it?"

― James Patterson

::::::::::::::::::::::::TWELVE::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Raccoon City, 1998

The moment the train burst free of the tunnel, sunlight had started to break through the cloudy sky. It was morning. Morning had fallen after the longest night. The night that knew no end. The night that would haunt them forever.

The girl and the boy on the train watched the sun rise, gold and orange. It was a beautiful thing: a promise when there'd been no hope. Bleeding, dirty, tired, hungry and afraid, they'd finally fled the necropolis that had tried to destroy them. They'd uncovered horrors and conspiracy, they'd fought the darkness and survived. And they'd done it together.

On a blanket, the little girl they'd rescued snored softly. She was filthy and small and sweet. And sound asleep. They'd saved her and it was their greatest victory.

Leon Kennedy guided the train to safety and the sun reflected brilliant in the husky blue of his eyes. The dirt on his face defined it and made it seem older than it had twenty four hours before. He couldn't figure out why anything as mundane going back to normal life scared him so much. He only knew that tonight, when the sun set, he'd have to sleep alone. The idea terrified him.

Claire Redfield stood beside him. She was splattered in old blood and had a bruise on her face that was already turning yellow. Her red hair was sticking up in places and she had the faint odor of acrid smoke about her from the fire they'd traversed together.

Leon set the autopilot on the train and ran his hands through his hair, pushing it off his face. It was sticky and itchy with dried blood and sweat. It peeled back like the layer of an onion and settled against his scalp, leaving his handsome face unadorned.

She turned toward him and smiled. "Helluva night, handsome."

"Helluva night." He smiled back and rolled his shoulders. "I couldn't have done it without you. You saved my life back there against that thing."

Birkin. The image of his mutated form would haunt them both forever.

"Ditto. I thought I was a goner against Mr. X."

"Mr. X…what a name."

"It seemed to fit."

"It fits for sure."

Claire coughed a little as the silence drew out between them. "What now?"

Leon shrugged, at a loss. "Honestly? I think we get the information we have to the right people and let them handle it."

"Who's the right people though?"

"Good question."

She turned toward him. "Leon…"

He tilted his head, studying her. The sun flickered over her face, showing him the girl beneath the dirt. She was something. A fighter, a survivor. She had the bravery of a hundred men and the humor of a frat buddy. He only knew one thing about her: he wanted her in his life.

She took his hand and turned it. They slid those hands together and held.

She knew she could tug him in toward her and kiss him. She knew he'd kiss her back. She knew once they did, they'd probably never stop kissing. And she didn't have time for romance.

She had to find her brother.

So..she stayed right there as the train steered them to safety and she simply held his hand.

….

Harvardville, 2005

They moved down the beach together in the shimmering spill of sunlight. He had scratches across his face, across his nose. She limped a little on the one leg that been damaged in the explosion. They looked like a pair that had survived the worst night of their lives…again. And they had…again.

She turned to him and caught his gaze on her. Things were different now. In the tent, they'd finally touched each other. After all that time, they'd tasted the temptation of what the other offered. It lingered between them like a heady perfume.

Trying to lighten the mood, Claire joked, "When did you go diving together?"

Leon shrugged and smiled, "I'm an accomplished diver."

Of course, they were speaking of Angela, the sister of the recently diseased Curtis Miller. She'd made it clear that she was interested in him. And clearly something had happened in the water. Claire waited for an elaboration and he was surprisingly mum on the subject.

Surprised to feel the little niggle of jealousy, Claire made the conversation polite again, "So what now?"

"Hard to say. I never know from one minute to the next. You need a ride?" He gestured to the chopper waiting for him at the far edge of the beach.

"Nope. I have a limo waiting." And she gestured to the limo waiting at the other.

"Where you off to?"

Claire shifted a little in the sand, hating the discomfort between them. Would she take back what happened to make things ok again? Part of her wanted to, part of her wanted to see what happened next if they both just let it happen.

Confused, she replied, "There's a press conference regarding the outbreak here. We have to take responsibility for the mess that was made. Hopefully we can set it right."

"Good luck with that. It'll be a media firestorm for awhile."

"Yep. I'm used to it."

"Remember what I said, Claire. You didn't do this. You did everything you could to make it right. Don't let anyone take that from you. The second you start to cave, you've already lost."

She lifted her face to him again. The cool breeze off the water played with his hair. It cast the blonde and showed the riot of colors that made the rest of it. Would there ever be a time she didn't want to touch him?

"Thanks. I won't forget. Maybe next time we meet up, it can be someplace…normal."

Leon chuckled a little. "Sounds like a plan to me. What do you think about the Chesapeake Bay?"

Claire blinked, curious. "I've never been there."

"Yeah?" He put his hands in his pockets, rocking on his heels a little, "My family has a place there. We could go fishing, take the boat out. What do you think? I've got some furlough time coming to me. I could use the break."

The smile slid over her face and held there. "I think that sounds like the best idea I've heard in weeks. When?"

"How's a couple weeks?"

"I think that's perfect." She smiled at him again, "I guess we should both get a move on here. Pretty rude to keep people waiting huh?"

"Probably," He seemed as reluctant as she was to go though. Touched, she figured it was best to cut the tie before things edged into awkward again.

"So I'll see you soon?"

"You bet."

"Great. Thanks, Leon..for coming. For saving me. You're always there when I need you. I won't ever forget that."

"Claire bear, where else could I be but where you need me to be? Saving each other is what we do."

She smiled at him, "So…see you."

"See you, pretty girl."

Claire hurried toward the limo. She turned back to see him watching her. She wanted to run back and beg him to come with her. She wanted to run back and leap on him like a monkey. She wanted to run back and confess her undying love for him.

Instead, she waved one more time.

…

Chesapeake Bay, 2006

They made the trip to the Bay an annual thing. It felt good there and freeing. And their friendship had blossomed and grown into something so beautifully simple and so painfully complex.

Laughing they hurried into the cabin from the cool air that surrounded the bay where they'd been swimming. The cabin was chilly from the air conditioner. They were in a full blown heated discussion about something completely pointless. And naturally the pointlessness of it was worth arguing about.

"No…it's entirely realistic!"

"Because shooting a banana peel out the back of a go cart to make the other cars slip and spin in circles, just happens all the time?"

Claire chuckled and shrugged, dripping in the cold air. "Mario Kart is the best game ever made. You're just mad because you know I'm right."

"Pfft," Leon shifted to move toward the linen closet on the far wall and grab two big fluffy towels, "I've never seen someone slip on a banana peel."

"Challenge accepted!" Claire hurried, wet, into the kitchen and pulled down a banana. She peeled it, took a big bite, and tossed the peel on the floor in front of him.

Leon glanced down at it, looked at her face, and again at the banana. "I'm sorta confused here. Am I supposed to purposely step on it? Doesn't that defeat the purpose of the thing?"

"Go on, hotshot. Put your money where your mouth is and slide on that peel. If you don't slip, you win. If you slip, I win."

Intrigued, he lifted a brow at her. "What's the winner get?"

"To be determined."

"Fair enough." He put his barefoot on the peel and pushed a little. "It's sticky. Not slippery."

"Come on, be fair. Run at the banana peel."

"Hold on, what? I'm supposed to RUN at it?"

"It's only fair." She giggled a little at the stupidity of it and leaned on the counter, watching him. She shivered a little in the cold air. "Come on, tough guy. You study fifty eight different kinds of martial arts. Surely you can best a banana peel."

Leon chuckled, amused, "It's not exactly fifty eight but close enough. What the fuck right? Sure."

He backed up about six feet and ran at the banana peel. In a sense of comedic timing, his foot hit the peel, slipped out from under him, and his ass hit the floor. Claire let out a whoop of success.

"I WIN!"

"Son of a bitch," Leon remarked in wonder, rubbing his tailbone, "It works. You learn something new everyday. I'm throwing banana peels under zombies from now on."

"Right!? That's what I'm screaming." Claire shivered again and moved into the room to help him up. "Thanks for being a good sport about it, honestly. You ok?"

"The ego is worse than the ass, I promise you."

"Oh I don't know about that. It's a helluva ass."

He laughed a little and Claire shivered. "Here. You're freezing." He grabbed one of the big poofy towels and wrapped it around her. He rubbed up and down her arms, putting the warmth into her. He was looking into the kitchen as he did, thinking about dinner.

She was looking at his face as he did it, thinking about him.

"Warmer?" He queried and turned his gaze to her face.

"…oh yeah." She murmured it. He kept on rubbing her arms. She lifted her fingers and started to grab the hem of his shirt.

And he shouted, "Tacos!"

Startled, she dropped her hands and stared at him. "Excuse me?"

"We're having tacos! It's the perfect food." He let go of her and went into the kitchen. Claire blinked, staring at where he'd been. "You can put anything you want on it. I'm thinking fish tacos. The local market here has the best fish. Seriously. You'll die when you have my fish tacos. I don't want to brag but I kinda know my way around the taco."

Amused because she kept picturing all kinds of dirty things, she laughed a little. "I'm sure."

"Seriously. I make a mean tartar sauce, just saying. You'll seriously question how you made it through your life without filling your mouth with it before. You'll want me to put it in your taco every time. For real."

"Oh yeah?" She laughed again and turned to watch him digging out pans. He was whistling while he gathered things for dinner. "I'm going to change, ok?"

"You bet. I'll do that too once I set the fish out to thaw. I'm serious Claire before the night is done, you're going to say Leon, your tartar sauce in my taco is the best thing to ever happen to me. You won't be wrong."

Claire closed the door to her room and burst into heavy laughter. He seriously had no idea how dirty his own comments were sometimes. He was utterly charming, was Leon Kennedy.

She came out to find him cooking the kitchen.

She stopped breathing when she saw him.

He was in pajama pants in a soft red plaid. His feet were bare and so was his chest. He was shirtless. Shirtless. He had music playing on the radio and he was cooking, kinda dancing, and singing along. Shirtless.

Jason Mraz was singing about love love love love. Leon was singing it with him. He had a beautiful tenor, very rich and full. He had a beautiful body. Good lord. And the awkward skinny boy in Raccoon City had grown into a lithe, athletic, pretty rhythmic god. He was a helluva dancer.

He saw her, winked, and decided to sing for her a little bit more. He couldn't know he was killing her. There was no way. He was so…cute. So cute. So utterly cute. The simple act of cooking, dancing, singing and being so very perfectly, utterly, gorgeous was ridiculous.

She figured out she'd forgotten to breathe and she sucked in a hard breath.

He beckoned to her with his hand and she went. She was in a little white tank top and sleeping shorts in pale gray. He pulled her to him, spun her around, and settled into a little dance with her as the song changed and tried to kill her where she stood.

They don't know how long it takes…waiting on a love like this…everytime we say goodbye…I wish we had one more kiss…I'll wait for you, I promise you…I will..lucky I'm in love with my best friend…lucky to have been where I have been…lucky to be coming home again…

He waltzed her and spun her, pulling her close and singing softly into her ear. Her damp hair was loose around her shoulders. His lips tickled her ear. His chest was warm and smooth and steely with muscle. He had to know what was happening here. Surely.

Why else was he playing a damn Jason Mraz CD? Was he torturing her?

She leaned back to see his face. His eyes were closed, he was smiling, he was dancing. He was…so happy. She said nothing. She just watched him while they danced.

His eyes opened at the end of the song. They met hers. She lifted her thumb and skimmed it over the little of tartar sauce at the corner of his mouth. And she put it in her mouth.

Softly, she said, "Mmm. Yum."

He glanced at her mouth and back at her eyes and said, "Right? Told ya."

He let her go to go back to cooking.

Claire blinked, blinked again. He was the dumbest man alive. Clearly. He was a complete dumbass about women. She thought about Angela and her "diving" remark. The poor girl. She'd probably pressed her tits all over him and he'd given her some air and not even realized it. CPR for dumbasses.

Amused, she watched him dice cilantro and tomatoes. The song had transitioned to Bleeding Love by Leona Lewis. Yeah, somebody somewhere was sending her signs here.

Curious, she leaned on the counter, "Been diving lately?"

Leon glanced at her from under his hair and chuckled. "What's with the tone?"

"What tone?"

"You didn't like Angela huh?"

Claire shrugged, "She seemed ok. The better question is: how much did you like her?"

Leon started toasting the tortillas. He shrugged a little. "She was cool. And a little sad. And you know, guy that I am, I had to save the girl."

"Yes, you and your savior complex."

"Don't worry my Claire bear. You are still the only one for me."

Ugh.

He had no idea how he tortured girls. He really didn't. He was all jokes and good humor. All senseless charm and steely muscles. He was a unicorn. It was as simple as that. The gorgeous, funny, witty, sort of bumbling innocent man who had no idea he was all of those things. It was why women wanted him. He had no clue that he was the holy grail of men.

"You get that she was into you right?"

"Hmm?"

"Leon, stop chopping."

He did, smiling at her. He stuck his thumb in his mouth and sucked the lime juice from the pad of it. Yep…total dumbass about women. Leon cocked his head, studying her, "What now?"

"Angela. She was in to you. You knew that right?"

Leon shook his head and went back to chopping. "Nah. It was the adrenaline. Surviving the fight does that sometimes. It blurs the lines. I didn't do anything out of line."

"I'm sure you didn't." She was sure of that. "But she was into you. She mentioned diving again. You got the reference, right?"

"Flirting never hurt anyone. We flirt too, right? Harmless." He turned and grabbed an avocado from the fridge.

Right, she thought, harmless. He didn't see her. He didn't get it. Maybe she was the biggest fool of all.

She sighed, smiled, and said, "Right. Harmless. I'm starving. Where's the grub?"

…..

Dromania, Croatia 2012

He was waiting on the steps of the clinic there. The city bustled around them, people at work, at play, living and loving and lingering. He sat there, in a dirty suede jacket, in jeans with streaks of filth and blood. He had his forehead on his arms, his arms on his knees, his head down. But he was alive.

They said he'd gone radio silent. He'd been called off furlough and sent into the Eastern Slav Republic for a mission. They'd called the abort and he'd…stayed anyway. Damn him, why was he always the hero?

"Leon…"

His head came up. She was pretty in the setting sun, her hair was longer then last he'd seen her. And it was held back in a sleek ponytail at the base of her neck. She wore a blue bomber jacket in rich silk and slim little skinny jeans tucked into knee high black boots. They'd drugged him up to tape his broken ribs and told him to call someone to come get him.

Who else should he call?

She'd been at a TerraSave lecture in Dalmatia. She'd come. Of course, she had.

She hurried up the steps toward him. "What did you do?"

He half smiled, a little woozy from the drugs. "Apparently I'm on suspension."

"What?"

"I disobeyed a direct order. I'm suspended. Isn't the funny?" She helped him up and he put his arm around her shoulders. "I did the right thing. And I got suspended for it. Ain't that some shit?"

Ain't. For that kind of grammar, he had to be a little out of it.

Claire smiled at him, "Yeah it is. But it'll blow over. For now, it's back to vacation for you."

"Right…because vacationing with broken ribs is super fun. Maybe I'll go ride rodeo. Or parasailing…no. Wait. I'll just be sleeping it off with Darvocet."

Claire winced for him, "How many are broken?"

"Three. Fucking tyrants."

And now she shivered, imagining. "And how many of those?"

"Two." He paused, closed one eye, he was slurring a little. The pain meds were working but he felt drunk. "I think."

Charmed, she helped him into the passenger side of her rental car. He tried to get comfortable as she drove through the city. He kept hold of one of her hands while she drove, keeping it on his left thigh. Their tattoos showed, blending.

What a trip that had been. Hanging out on a yearly basis in the Chesapeake came with a lot of drinking. And some poor decisions. The tattoos came on a Tuesday night. Luckily, they'd decided they loved them and kept them.

His other hand was still in his tactical glove. She lifted his hand and kissed it. His eyes drifted open and he rolled his neck to look at her. "Claire…I missed you."

She smiled and angled the car into a street spot outside of his hotel. She turned toward him and kissed his hand again. "You ok, handsome?"

"I've been better," He chuckled and thought about it, "I've been worse too."

"I believe it." She came to help him out of the car and through the lobby to the stairs. No elevators existed in the older hotels through out the city. The stairs nearly killed him getting up them but they made it to the third floor and into his room.

She helped him out of his dirty jacket. He hissed with a series of dirty curses as they got him out of his sweat soaked undershirt. He had bloody scratches across his chest. The tyrant had gotten very close to him, too close. She felt the little undercurrent of fear from it.

Claire ran him a bath with tons of bubbles. A shower was out while his ribs were taped but he needed a good hose down. He was pretty ripe.

She started working on his belt while the water ran.

"Here," He admonished, it slurred a little, "I can get that. Sheesh."

"It's fine. Really." She snaked the leather from the loops and set it aside. She bent to unlace his boots. "Want to tell me what happened?"

"…he had the plagas in him. So I shot him."

She lifted her eyes and she set his second boot aside. He was watching her, very closely. She rose and undid the button on his jeans. "Yeah? Did he die?"

The zipper sounded very, very loud in the room. It shouldn't have sounded so loud. She could taste her heart beat in her mouth. The backs of her fingers brushed his sweaty stomach as she helped him.

He answered, very softly, "No. I severed his spine..I had to. It was the only choice."

Claire's hands slid around his hips and gripped the waistband of his jeans. It put her arms around him, put her body against him. She lifted her eyes and she was very, very aware of how close their faces were. He was sweaty, flaked with dried blood, had dirt and sweat and grime on him. He should have stunk to high heaven.

He didn't. He smelled like he'd survived. He smelled like he'd LIVED.

Claire answered, gently, "I believe you."

Leon held her gaze and his eyes drifted, shifted, and landed on her mouth. They slid back to her eyes. She thought she might pass out from the blood rushing to her head. The damn pain meds were making him…something.

He angled his head just a little. She thought, he's going to kiss me, and she panicked. She pulled his jeans down.

"Let's get you in the tub."

Leon stepped out of the pants, hissing. "Yeah. Right. Wash the day off right?"

She was very careful not to look at his boxer briefs as she rose. She knew they were blue. That was enough. Really.

She helped him to the bathroom and shut the water off. The bubbles looked frothy and the steam in the air was soothing. She heard him hiss, grunt a little, and the drop of his boxer briefs to the floor. He was naked now.

Naked.

Naked.

She stared at the wall behind the tub while he climbed in and sunk below the bubbles. They covered him up to his stomach. She couldn't see anything else.

Thank god.

And yet she felt the fire of regret in there too. Ugh. She heard him splashing in the water and it felt like the top of her head was going to blow off. There was a special place in hell for the person who invented platonic friendship. And a special place in Heaven for those who sat in the place of one while silently yearning.

Leon made a sound of pain and she turned to look at him. Feeling like a bitch for putting her own needs first, she moved over to sit on the closed toilet seat beside him. He was leaning back, his head against the porcelain wall tiles, and his ribs and chest were covered with ugly, flowering bruises. Claire sighed, consigned to her own self torment and started rinsing his hair for him.

They were both quiet as the first few minutes passed. She watched the swirling darkness and pink of blood rinse out of his hair and into the frothy water. He made a sound of distress when she gently helped him wash his chest and his upper body. Hurting for him, she skimmed her fingers through his hair.

"How about a drink? They say no when taking pain pills but I th—"

"No speech necessary. Get the booze."

His deep voice was gravel and steel. Claire smirked a little and grabbed his flask. She held it for him, gently, while he took a long swallow. He gave her a thumbs up and she lowered it, setting it on the floor.

"Better?"

"Infinitely."

She started to rise to give him some privacy and he grabbed her hand. He lowered it to his chest and held it there. Claire was pretty sure she'd drop dead on the spot but she crouched beside the tub anyway. He opened his eyes and looked at her.

"Why are you so good to me?"

It was a loaded question. A big one. She knew the answer could take them in any of fifteen different directions. She gave him the only answer there was.

"I love you." And that was true. The truest words she'd ever spoken.

He smiled, sweetly. "I love you too, Claire bear. You might be the best part of me."

Her smile was a little sad. "If you really think that, you haven't been paying attention. And you're dumber than you seem."

"Pretty dumb," He chuckled and groaned from it, "Stayed in when they said get out. Pretty dumb."

"Pretty brave."

He pulled her forward and they pressed their foreheads together. She lifted her hand to cup the side of his face and whispered, "Big hero."

Leon laughed and the sound was a little broken. "Big idiot."

"Never that. Never." And she kissed him. It was so soft, smooth, gentle. It lasted only a moment and was over. He smiled after it. She nearly died.

"What did I do to deserve you?"

Claire answered, softly, "You didn't run. You could have…but you stayed."

"Not sure I know how to run."

"We all do…just need the right thing to get us started."

"You think we're all afraid of something?"

She opened her eyes, looking at his beautiful face. His eyes were closed still. That was an easy question for once. She told him, "We're all afraid of something. You'll find yours eventually."

"Thanks for coming, Claire."

"Where else would I be when you need me? Now let's get you out of that bath tub and into bed."

When you put the man you love, naked, damp, and drugged up enough to be adorable, to bed without copping a single feel or making a dirty remark…you should be sainted. She watched him sleep, rubbing her fingers together like she'd touched lava. She wanted to climb into bed with him and hold on. She wanted to smack the shit out of him for being so blind that he couldn't see it.

But instead?

She stood guard over him while he slept.

….

Washington D.C. 2016

They told her he was dead.

She received, for what would not be the first time in her life, the phone call in the middle of a sunny afternoon. She was in Boston at a Terrasave convention. She opened her phone during a break in lectures and had a missed call.

Barry Burton filled her voicemail with the message: The mission he'd been on had ended with no survivors. No survivors. No survivors.

She dropped the phone. It slid from her hand and bounced across the floor. Beside her, Moira Burton grabbed her arm. Her pretty face was set in lines of concern. "Claire?"

"I need to get to Washington D.C. I need to get there now."

"Then let's get there."

They'd gotten to D.C. on a chopper owned the B.S.A.A. Her brother came through when she needed him. She ran across the tarmac to find Barry waiting for them. His red hair was bright in the midafternoon sun.

His expression was dark. He grabbed her hands and held them. "They found survivors after all."

Her voice came out, low and afraid, "Leon?"

He nodded and she started to pull away, feeling the relief burn like acid in her belly. His face shut down that relief, quick and fast. "It's not good Claire. He and one more Agent are alive. He's pretty badly wounded. The other agent is barely holding on."

"Take me to him."

He was lying in a hospital bed. He was bounded from wrist to hips in a bandage. His wrist was clearly broken, his left one. His face was covered in slashes and cuts. But he was alive. He was alive.

HE WAS ALIVE.

Claire felt him looking at her.

"That bad huh?"

His voice was gravelly and pained. She felt the smile bloom on her face. "You've looked worse."

He coughed out a laugh and then winced. "We gotta stop meeting like this."

"Seriously. I have enough trouble driving around picking up pieces of my brother. You guys think I have time for all of this shit?"

She sat down beside his hip on the bed and took his hand. He gripped it, hard, palm down. "They…they ripped her screaming up to the roof. I tried….I couldn't. And everyone…they say every one of them is gone."

Claire kept holding on. "She's alive. She's unconscious and she's got a shattered pelvis and two broken legs. Her right arm was nearly pulled out of the socket. But when it grabbed her, it tossed her. And it left her for dead. She's made of stronger stuff then that it seems. She survived until the evac team got you both."

"Jesus Christ.." He made some sound of grief. She felt the tears prick her eyes for him. "Jesus Christ…somebody ratted. Somebody turned traitor. Do they know who?"

"They're still looking into it."

"When they find out, I'm going to put a bullet in them and watch them bleed out slowly."

She scooped his hair back from his face. "That doesn't sound like you."

"Yeah…things change."

"That doesn't change. Big hero."

"Big failure."

"Never that. Never."

She leaned over and kissed him. He opened his eyes to watch her. His hand came up and wrapped at the back of her neck. He held their faces together. He kissed her back, sort of hard and desperate.

Claire made a sound of longing that he probably mistook for pity and ground her face against his neck and shoulder. "Stop trying to die on me."

He laughed a little and there was a broken edge to it that scared her. "No promises. Why are you so good to me?"

"I love you," She said it so vehemently, so fully, she thought he'd finally get it. He'd finally understand.

He didn't. He said, "I love you too, Claire bear. What would I do without you?"

She breathed him in, the smell of him, the edge of pain and torture and enduring love that made the core of him. She breathed him in and died a little. She kissed the edge of his jaw, his ear, his closed eye. "I wish I knew. I really do."

He held her hand to his chest and smiled a little. She didn't let go until he was asleep.

….

Silver Lake, Montana 2017

She was waiting on his porch when the sedan rolled to the curb and he climbed out of it. His arm was in a sling, his face was bruised. His black motorcycle jacket was filthy. He had blood splattered all over him.

He'd saved the girl, they said. And he'd saved her brother.

He was always saving people.

His progression to the darkness had been ugly and fast. She'd found him drunk in more bars then she could count. She'd poured him in bed, dealt with his self hatred, his belligerent attitude, his steady spiral into depression. She'd found him on the floor once in his kitchen in a pool of blood. He'd cut himself on a highball glass when he'd drank so much he'd literally fell down and smashed his own glass beneath him.

She'd helped him up, bound his wounds, and gotten him into bed once more. He'd told her to leave him the fuck alone. That she was "wasting herself" on him. She'd slapped his hung over face, called him a bastard, and pushed him into the shower to wash away the stench of scotch.

After the fake Ada Wong had gotten all his men killed, her brother had fallen into a hole as deep and dark as it was wide. She'd helped him climb out. He'd done that first after Kijuju with the PTSD he'd suffered badly. What was it with these men and their inability to come back from their own darkness?

She muttered, "Men." And pushed up her sleeves to drag Leon Kennedy back from his own self destruction as well.

He moved across the soft grass toward her and she came down the steps to meet him.

The dark sedan pulled away, leaving them in the quiet.

"Thank you. I know it was hard for you to do what you did."

He looked down at her, watching her face. He shrugged his own good shoulder. "It's what I do right? Big hero." And it sounded so angry, so bitter.

His hair was ink dark now, a reflection of what he felt inside. D.C. had cost him something ugly. He'd gone down into the morgue and put bullets in all the men he'd lost. Helena Harper had lived but she was unlikely to ever walk again.

And Leon had survived, again.

That survivors guilt plagued him like poison.

Claire grabbed his jacket and jerked on him a little. He grunted with the pain of his set shoulder. "Easy, Claire. Damn."

"Big idiot. Stop trying to get yourself killed."

"What the fuck are you talking about? I saved your brother. I saved the day! That's what I DO!"

"They said you came out of the fucking elevator on a motorcycle like some kind of lone ranger. You and that damn gun! You think you're John Wick?!"

"I kinda was, yeah. I did do some pretty stellar gun fu."

"This gun…it's the only thing you love!"

She took his Desert Eagle and ripped it from his thigh holster. She tossed it away to skid across the grass.

"Hey! Don't blame the gun! It saved your BROTHER! Or did you forget!?"

"I didn't forget! Did you? You promised no more trying to die on me!"

"I did NOT promise that!" He was relatively sure of that. "I promised to try. They came sniffing me out! What was I going to do? Not help?! Chris would be DEAD now!"

"My brother has a way of surviving. Sorta like you. You joined him on a personal vendetta against that idiot Arias. He and Cathy…they were…"

Leon blinked at her, "Oh…oh. I get it now."

"Yeah, you big idiot. I get why he did it. What about you? What was your reason?"

"Your brother can't do dick without my helping him. That's why. They asked. I had nothing better to do as it was all reruns on my favorite shows. The Walking Dead is on hiatus…I figured…what the fuck? Why not!?"

"You joke?" She pushed him, he made a sound of pain.

"Don't push me, Claire! I mean it!"

"Or what!? You fool. You thought you'd die out there didn't you? You ran up on that roof trying to die!"

He said nothing. She waited. He said nothing. He literally said nothing. And she knew it was true. He was trying to commit suicide by bravery. Maybe if he died, he could what? Make up for those that had gone before him? It was just the sort of stupid logic the men in her life used when they wanted to do something selfless and stupid. STUPID.

"….fool."

"You already said that."

"What happens to me if you die!?"

He shrugged a little. "You find some other charity case to waste your time nursing back to health. You'll get over it."

She slapped him, hard.

It rang like a shot between them.

"You selfish little asshole. You bastard. All the bars, all the floors, all the places in the worlds I've cleaned you up from lately. All the messes I've cleaned up for you. And this is what I get? This?!"

Leon shrugged and there was the hard edge of pain on his face that made a liar out of him. "Your choice. Nobody asked you to."

Claire stared at him, he stared back. She shook her head, slowly. "You're going to burn every bridge you've ever had. You're going to alienate anyone who cares about you. You're going to pull your self hatred, all your rage, all that grief around you and me and everyone until we all choke. Is that what you want?"

"Better then feeling like this. Why not? The bottle doesn't nag me to death about anything. It just makes me numb."

"And what about me? What do I do with that?"

"Do whatever the fuck you want, I'm going to bed." He passed by her.

She stood there, stricken, in the sunlight. She turned and followed him back into the house. He was pouring three fingers of scotch into a highball glass. It was 8 a.m.

She slapped the glass out of his hand. It hit the floor and shattered with a tinkle of breaking glass. He lifted a brow at her.

"That was a waste."

"You're a waste." She took the scotch and uncapped it, turning it over the sink.

"What the fuck, Claire! That's a six hundred dollar bottle of scotch!"

"Sue me," He grabbed it from her and they wrestled. She pushed him….in his bad arm. He recoiled, hissing. He called her several dirty names.

"Oh please. I grew up with a brother in the military, honey. Sticks and stones."

"Go away, Claire. I don't want you here."

"Did I ask?"

She moved toward him. Her hands found the zipper of his jacket. She jerked it down. The shirt inside was navy, v-neck, and pettably soft. She lifted her hands to ease the sling off his bad arm.

He hissed, "For fuck's sake I don't need a nursemaid."

"Shut up, you idiot." She eased the jacket off his arms. The navy t-shirt clung in all the right places. A drunken fucking nightmare or not, he hadn't been neglecting his body. He was even bigger than the last time she'd seen him. He'd been channel his rage, it seemed, into lifting weights.

The lithe physique was showing signs of being heavy with muscle in the chest and shoulders. "You trying to get ready to fight my brother?"

"You see your brother lately ? Dude's been slacking on the weight lifting."

"Wesker is dead. He can afford the break. What's your excuse?"

"Picking up heavy shit beats the hell out of sleeping."

"How so?"

"There are no nightmares when I'm awake."

Claire blinked at him, hurt for him, and wanted to comfort him. He was so lost. He was so sad. He was so broken. How did she fix him? Could she?

"Tell me the truth. Why did you go? You could have given them the answers and stayed home. But you went. Why?"

He watched her face and shrugged. It brought a gasp of pain from his mouth. "Rebecca has a way of making you feel about five years old and about three feet tall. It was guilt at first. And finally, it was clarity. Nothing makes me feel clearer than the fight, Claire. That part is still true."

"I get that. I do. But you are one fucking guy. ONE. What did you think you'd do on the rooftop? Ride your motorcycle at that monster and square dance?"

He felt his mouth twitch into a smile. "There's an image."

"Stop laughing, damnit."

He snorted. "I didn't think that far ahead. I just did it. And it's good I did. That thing had your brother like it was going to open him up and see what he was made of. I stopped it. He got the cure. And it's all ok now."

"The two of you…neither of you ever think beyond yourself. Did you think, either of you, what I'd do if I lost you both!? Both of you?! How would I come back from that?"

He hadn't. Neither of them had. It was the first time he realized that it wasn't just Rebecca that had a way of making him feel about three feet tall.

"No. No we didn't."

"I won't bury you, you asshole. But if you keep trying to die on me, I WILL kick your ass."

"Claire…this is all I know how to do. I can't stop being me."

"No," She rubbed her hands across his chest, petting him, "But you can stop being stupid."

"I can try. No promises. Why are you so good to me?"

She lifted her head, met his eyes, and held them. "I love you. How do you not know that?"

"I know it." He was very quiet now. And very aware of something different here. It was sharp, like an ice pick. "I love you too, Claire be—"

"Don't. Please. I can't hear it today. I can't hear it. You big idiot." She turned away from him and went to the sink to rinse down the scotch and pour him a glass of water.

"It shouldn't make you sad to hear it, Claire."

Claire turned back and met his eyes, "Doesn't it make you sad to hear it? You reject any one who even tries to get close to you. Why?"

He turned away and she noted that his jeans did wonderful things for his ass. The cowboy boots worn under the jeans added just the right edge to an already ridiculously wonderful picture. She followed him into the bedroom.

He was turning the lid on his flask to take a drink.

Claire stomped toward him and ripped it from his hands.

He looked at her from beneath his hair. The look on his face should have killed her where she stood. "You're trying my patience."

"Good! I don't have any left for you anyway." She took a swig from the flask and shuddered. Nasty stuff. But it spread warmth in her belly when it got there. That was the power of booze. Liquid courage.

"Go home, Claire. The day is saved. Everyone is fine. Just let me have my peace."

He sat down on the edge of his bed and speared his hand through his hair. The shift made his sore shoulder hurt. "Give me my flask."

"No."

"God damnit, Claire!" He shouted it now, rising to his feet. He actually took a step toward her. She tilted her head, watching him, "I swear to god…"

"What? Going to hurt me? Really!? For this!?" She held up the flask. "Come on. Come get it. I dare you."

He took another few steps toward her like he'd do it, like he'd take it. She palmed it and drove it hard into his stomach. He grunted, glanced up at her in surprise as he bent double, and she turned and left the room. She walked out onto the porch and kept going.

"Claire! Give it back!"

She ran to the edge of the tree line and chucked it, as hard as she could.

"What the FUCK!" He grabbed her and spun her to face him, "What part of LEAVE ME ALONE do you not understand?! Go away! Stay the fuck out of my business!"

"You ARE my business!"

"Why?! I'm not your brother, not your father, not your fucking boyfriend! I'm just some guy you hang around with sometimes, Claire. Do us both a favor and get out of here before I say something we'll both regret."

"….just some guy I hang around with? Really?"

He watched her, eyes narrowed in anger. She pushed on his chest and he stumbled back, hissing in pain. "BIG IDIOT! You think you can hurt me and I'll run away? Is that it? You stupid, stupid…stupid man."

Frustrated, he through his hands up and caused himself immense pain from it. He hissed, groaned, and cursed again. "Fine! Do whatever you want! I'm done here."

She found him half dressed and getting into his bed. He'd changed into a pair of sleeping pants in black and was turning down the covers. He kept wincing from the pain of it.

He saw her lingering in the doorway and sighed. "I'm too tired to fight any more. Ok? Just…not anymore."

She walked toward him and took his hand. Their tattoos pressed together: Keep Fighting.

He shook his head, slowly. "That wasn't the purpose."

"No. But it gets the point across."

"Fine but not any more now. I can't. I need to sleep. Please."

She tugged him toward her. Her arms wounded around him and held on. He hesitated and then hugged her, tight and hard.

"You can't hurt me and make me go away, Leon. You know that."

He closed his eyes and laid his cheek on her head. "I don't deserve you."

And she knew…she knew he meant that. He meant it. He didn't think he deserved any one. He was so utterly, totally, and completely flawed. It was so sad to see such a strong man reduced to such emptiness and grief. He was rotting from the inside. How could she help him?

She lifted her head and looked at him. She lifted her hand and caught his chin, turning his face down to her. "I know you're lost. I feel it. I wish I knew how to help you, how to fix you. I wish I knew. Because you saved me that night in that tent in Harvardville. I was so lost. The guilt nearly killed me….but I looked at you. And you…gave me hope. You gave me strength. You gave me reason when the madness was murdering me. I want to do that for you."

He shook his head, gently, "I don't know if you can."

"Let me try," She rose on her toes and pressed her mouth to his, "Let me try."

"Claire…"

"Shhh. Let me try." She kissed him again. He was so very still against her. She wanted so very deeply, so very desperately, to show him. How could he ever understand if she didn't show him what he was? How would she function without him?

She said, softly, "I love you…don't say it back. Don't. I can't hear it right now. I love you. And not in a best friend way. I love you. And it's not friendly. And it is friendly. And it's mixed up in something. And it's mixed up in everything. You can't spiral away and die…you can't…I can't lose you…"

"Claire…" He tried again.

She shook her head. "No. I just need to get it out there. I have to. I just need to do it now. I can…I can step aside for another woman. I can't step aside for that. I can. I can't just stand here and watch you self destruct. I should have…I should have yes…in Harvardville? I should have said yes in that tent."

Surprised, flabbergasted, he said her name once more.

"Don't…because…because I think you're going to say something sweet and mushy and friendly and try to deflect me and I can't do that right now. And I just…I keep you with me in my heart…and you make it easier when life gets hard…" She laughed a little, "See? I'm a fucking Jason Mraz song. Lord."

Claire turned away to pace across the room, "But you just…you don't get it! You don't get it. You whisper and flirt. And I pick you up from the floor of some bar. And I die. I DIE! Because you don't get it! What you do, it hurts people who love you! It hurts. You can't keep hurting people who love you!"

Claire huffed out in frustration and ran her hands through her hair. "Eventually the people you hurt, they stop trying to fix you. But I can't do that. I love you. I LOVE YOU!"

She shouted it loud enough he jumped.

"And I don't even like fish tacos!"

His mouth smirked a little.

"DON'T YOU DARE LAUGH! You with your sexy little cooking and dancing and flirting. Harmless, Claire. It's harmless flirting. It's all harmless." The voice she used was mocking and very high pitched.

"Pretty sure I don't sound like that. You're just being mean."

"You DO sound like that! And you sing your little evil songs. You…just…"

"…evil is a bit harsh."

"Shut up! You stupid man. You blithering idiot."

"…I'm actually pretty articulate."

"You? Really? They call you the Executioner. They should call you the executioner of good dialogue! A pun is not a good joke!"

"Hey! PUNS ARE THE HIGHEST FORM OF HUMOR!"

"No! Idiot! They are the LOWEST!"

He was pretty sure that wasn't true. Was it? He was too enraptured with her tirade. "What are you saying here, Claire?"

"I love you! Moron!"

"I love you too! Bitch!"

Frustrated, she threw up her hands. "That's not what I mean. Damnit. You are…" She moved toward him. He watched her and wasn't sure he liked where she was going with this.

She shoved him, hard. His bad shoulder screamed in pain even as he spilled backward onto his bed. She climbed on top of him, straddling him.

"Wai—"

She didn't wait. She kissed him. And it wasn't gentle and it wasn't sweet and it wasn't nice. It was hungry. She kissed him like she'd die if she couldn't.

He tasted like survival and scotch and cigarettes. It should have been awful. But it was just short of intoxicating. He was so very still beneath her. She felt the first stab of fear in her belly.

She leaned up to look at him.

The look on his face was tortured...pained. She looked down at him and died a little inside. She slid off him.

"Claire..wait.."

"No…it's…no…it's fine."

"Claire…I need to tell you…it's more complicated than you think."

"You don't want me…" Lord. The hurt was so broad, so fast and deep, that it stole her breath a little. He didn't want her. She'd waited…she'd waited too long and it was too late and it was done. Their timing had always been wrong and awkward and broken by other things. She wasn't a fool, she knew there was another woman mixed up in there somewhere, she could feel it when he was with her.

"Claire, don't leave like this. Please."

She spun back to face him. "What can you say, Leon? What is there left to say? Every man in my life that I've ever cared about, with the exception of my brother, has rejected, left, or betrayed me! Did you ever think about that? I have TERRIBLE TASTE IN MEN! Steve! Did I ever tell you about Steve?"

Angrily, she set about washing dishes in his kitchen. She had to do something with her hands or she'd start hitting him. "Steve was this boy on Rockfort Island. This male prisoner. Steve saved my life. He was a little…arrogant and sorta young and flirty. He was….he would have probably been something if he'd survived. But he died. He died a mutated monster and laid there in his own blood confessing his love for me!"

She shoved plates in his dishwasher.

"Claire…" His voice was soft, sympathetic, "Stop that. And come here. Let me explain."

"Wait! I'm not done." She started on the glasses, "So Steve dies in his own blood. And it nearly killed me. Why? I was kinda in love with him. Why not? He was kind and funny and stupid and cute. And he was devoted to me. He stared at my ass a lot which was flattering and probably sexist. But it was ok. But he was in love with me."

She glanced at Leon where he stood now, watching her. And what was that look on his face?

She hooted a little, "Oh! That bothers you? Good. Good. I'm not done yet."

Claire crammed silverware into the slots on the dishwasher. "So Steve dies. That's hard to get over. It's rough. I went to sit with Sherry while they poked and prodded at her. They told me you took the job offer they tossed at you to protect her from worse. Big hero."

She closed the dishwasher and set it to working. She turned to face him, lifting a cup of coffee to take a drink. "So I'm working with Terrasave now. Things are going pretty good. I had a boyfriend in the mean time, Kurt. Nice guy. Friendly. That might have been something but he was married. Yeah. Married. And so that fell apart."

She sat down at the table. Leon sat across from her now, watching her, just watching. She could see something on his face. She wasn't sure what it was. Regret? Anger? Who knew with him?

"Let's fast forward to Harvardville. I get there and meet Frederic. He's…charming. He's handsome and funny and sort of ironic in that British way that makes you think. And he's working for the company making the T-virus vaccine. He's also EVIL. EVIL EVIL EVIL. My best friend in the world and I, we make out right? We just make out like we want to jump each other's bones and get it on. It's awesome. I'm confused. My best friend doesn't just back off…nope. HE RUNS. Like the hounds of hell are chasing at his heels. So I think…best to leave that alone. I go back with Frederic to his office to get a nightcap."

She laughed a little watching his face. "By nightcap I mean sex. We had sex. A lot of it. For an evil mastermind, he was good at the sex. He took my mind off you anyway. Which was something I needed. And, for the record, I did like him. Quite a lot."

There was no mistaking it now. That was jealousy on his face. And she liked.

"Naturally," He answered, sipping the coffee she'd poured him, "Because fucking in the middle of that mess makes perfect sense."

"Oh fuck you, Mr. Kennedy. You don't get to go judging me. You were "diving" while I was fucking. So don't pretend for a minute you're above it."

"God damnit, Claire. That's not a euphemism. It happened like that. Nothing else happened."

"Whatever. We're digressing," She sipped her coffee again and struck up one of his smokes, "So Frederic and I get it on. We fuck like a couple of bunnies. While I'm looking the other way, he goes nuts and tries to blow up the world. Just my luck, one more nut case in my life to deal with. But Leon Kennedy saves the day and everyone goes home happy. You and I come out of that better friends than ever."

She knocked the ashes from the cigarette into an ashtray on the table. "Leon Kennedy and I start taking yearly trips to the Chesapeake Bay. We laugh, we drink, we cook, we swim. He gets half naked and dances and rubs my face in the fact that I didn't make a move in Harvardville. He makes it clear we're just friends."

"…that is certainly revisionist history."

"Whatever. So I start dating my boss at work. Neil. Neil is charming. Neil is good in bed. He is smart and funny and witty and seems to really care about me. Neil takes me to Paris and asks me to marry him."

Leon jerked, like she'd slapped him.

"Oh yeah. He did. I didn't say yes. Not right away. I was still hoping you would come around. I didn't know if I loved Neil. But I figured I could eventually. But then HQ gets attacked and Moira and I end up in that hell hole…"

He moved to take her hand and she slid it away, sipping her coffee. The rejection hurt him almost as much as it hurt her. But she couldn't, not anymore. She had to put it all out there.

"So I see some…awful shit. I see how awful the Wesker project is. I see how awful it all is. I find out Neil is a double agent working for the formerly disgraced FBC director Lansdale. I find out he was using me for intel. So I was a fuck toy. I was his fuck toy. I kill Neil. And he dies begging for forgiveness." She ground the cigarette out, "He gets none. And will never get any. I keep making trips to the damn Chesapeake Bay to torture myself. Why not? Who gives a shit at this point?"

She rose and turned away to stare out over his deck. "I have a few lovers between then and now. But most of mistakes and have issues. There's the former director of Terrasave who was married, yeah I like married apparently, and Chris' buddy at the BSAA who thought he'd try to own me. That ended badly and Chris lost a good friend over it. There was a few nights with Jill's old buddy Carlos."

Again, Leon made a movement.

"Oh…you don't like him either huh? Well sorry. He's good in bed. So it was worth it." She turned back to him. "And here we are. My sordid past mistakes on full display. Why are we here? I have chased and cleaned up and fixed you over and over. Why are we here? Why didn't you ever chase me? I would have let you catch me."

He rose, slowly, he winced as his arm protested. "I don't deserve you."

"Leon…I swear to god..don't start this shit."

"Claire…" He tried to take her hand, she slapped him away. He clenched his hand into a fist, "In Raccoon City….I met-"

"You have GOT to be kidding me….her!? This…this is all about Ada Wong?" The pain of that chewed up her throat and nearly stole her breath. "All these years…you've been chasing Ada Wong?"

He stared at her, at a loss for words.

"….you big idiot."

"I know."

"No…" Her voice broke, hurting them both. He looked like she'd punched him in the face. "Don't. You son of a bitch."

"Claire…" He sounded so shocked, so hurt. She shook her head.

"You stupid blind bastard. You dumb…man. Chasing some piece of ass that will never want you back. And too stupid to see what is RIGHT HERE. When I was picking you up off the floor of whatever bar you had drunk yourself blind in, where was Ada Wong?! When I was picking you up off the ground, bloody and broken, WHERE WAS ADA WONG!?"

He grabbed her hand now and wouldn't let her pull away. "Stop it, Claire! Stop it."

"You idiot! You fool! What is it going to take to make you see? What will it take to make you understand what you are doing to yourself? SHE WILL KILL YOU! Do you understand that, Leon? She will RUIN YOU! She will tear down everything you love and piss on the ashes! Do you care about that? Or is what is waiting between her perfect thighs worth destroying everything you care about in the whole world?"

He made some sound and jerked her forward. She fought him, struggling. He took a few hits to his injured arm and felt the world catch fire with pain. But he pinned her against the wall and forced her slapping hands to stop hitting him.

He put his face into the bend in her neck and shoulder and held her. She struck at his back until she was breathless and weak from it. And she finally slumped against him, crying. He stopped pinning her to wrap his good arm around her and hold her.

"You bastard…" She whispered it. "All this time…you bastard…"

"I'm sorry, Claire. If I'd have known…I'm so sorry…"

"Would it have mattered? Would it? If I'd said something in Raccoon City…would it have mattered?"

He drew back to look at her. They held eyes. And he said, "I don't know."

"And now that you know…what now?"

He was so afraid. So terribly afraid. If he did it, if he kissed her, if he fell into her…what would it mean? Everything? Nothing? Would it mean the end? Or the beginning? Or the beginning of the end? What would he do without her? What would he do if he lost her?

But he'd waited too long.

He watched her shut down.

Desperately, terrified, he dropped his mouth to kiss her. She froze, lost, afraid. And then she kissed him back.

It was nearly drowning. He grappled to hold on to her and she tried to pull him closer. She kissed him like she'd never stop. And he was so afraid of what it meant. What it would mean. This couldn't be just a thing that happened with them. It would never be that. It would mean everything and nothing.

Everything she'd said…everything he'd heard. And felt. And done. Of course he'd always wanted her. Of course he had. But how did he tell her everything? How did he tell her all of it? It was more than Ada and so much more complicated.

Claire deserved babies and marriage and moonlit walks in the woods. There was no way this would ever be enough for her. Would it be enough for him? Could he hold her, fill her, be inside her and not love her? He loved her now. Had always loved her. But IN love with her? The thought terrified him.

He was out of time to decide. She pushed her hands into his sleeping pants and grabbed his ass. He was pretty sure his brain was going to shoot straight out of his dick. They were, apparently, trying to suck each other's faces off when they kissed.

She liked the beard as it scratched at her skin. She wanted to feel him against her. She jerked her long sleeved shirt over her head and tossed it away. Clad in just her bra, she jerked him back against her. They both made some sound at the first real touch of bare skin together.

Yeah, he thought, that's what he knew she'd feel like. She was silky. Her skin was cream and a dash of rose. She had freckles on her shoulders and a fine dusting of them across her bosom. She tasted like summer and looked like a damn masterpiece painting. And her mouth kissed like a pro.

He needed to stop. He had to. Because she needed to know everything and have it all out there before they did this.

His hand were touching her and he hadn't even realized it. He was touching her stomach and back and her breasts. He was playing with her breasts over her damn bra. His body was a traitor. But it had an excuse. It hadn't had a release in a really…really…really…long time.

She made some sound of frustration and put her mouth to his throat. She was chewing on him, licking and nibbling, her tongue was swirling in the hollow his throat. Now was a good time to mention that he had never done this before right? It was a good time.

She grabbed his face and kissed him again, encouraging him. She wanted to feel what his body would do to her bare and finally hot against her. Claire leaned back to look at his face. He looked…something. Unsure? He kinda looked afraid.

That was ok. She was nervous too. She laughed a little and slid her hand inside of his pants. Her nails scraped so close to his throbbing dick he was pretty sure he'd die on the spot. He caught her around the waist with his good arm and lifted her. He sat her on the kitchen table and stepped between her denim clad legs. He put his face down and buried it in her cleavage. It was the perfect place to smother himself. She had lovely, perky, soft breasts that said "You should have a taste of us."

Claire made a desperate sound and shifted her hands to unlatch the bra in front. He caught her hands and held them, breathing fast and hard. If she did that and he had access to all of her like that. He didn't think he'd be able to stop. He'd start feasting on her and he wouldn't stop until they were both dead.

He had to tell her now. He opened his mouth to confess, and she said, "It's ok. I love you. I want you. You know that. I love you."

I love you.

He froze, terrified. And, for the first time, he heard the I LOVE YOU she was actually saying. I love you.

"Claire…I've never…I'm…this would be…"

And she got it. Just like that. She understood. And was confused. And was so ungodly turned on. Surely not. He could not possibly untouched at this point. That was ridiculous. "Leon…" she breathed it, more in love with him then she'd ever been. It would be so perfect. To love him and be the first time for him and the first time for her with someone she loved. It was wonderful and humbling and amazing.

"I'm in love with you. I'm so in love with you. I've waited for you too in a way. This is good. I'm ready. I will…be easy and gentle…and we'll just…we'll just love each other." She put her mouth against his chest, kissing. Her teeth nipped at one nipple, drawing his breath in a gasp of pleasure. She kissed down his stomach, licking at him. She nipped across the waistband of his sleeping pants. Drowning, he watched her nip at the pulsing bulge of him through his pants. Good god. He was going to go in his pants like some fifteen year old boy.

She rose, all sexy smiles and desire. "I love you, Leon. I've always loved you. Oh god I can't wait for you anymore." She slid her hand into his pants and he caught her hand.

Her cheeks were pink and blushing. She was so beautiful. She was so perfect. And her love terrified him. It scared him to death. He didn't want that. Didn't want it. He wanted her, yes, he wanted to fall into her and love her and fuck her until they both died from it. And it scared him like no monster he'd ever faced before could.

And so, because he was a coward, he said, "I'm not…I'm not in love with you, Claire. I'm not. Not like that. I can't use you like this."

She watched his face, frozen. He drew her hand and gave it back to her.

He watched her face and died. Because he saw the moment he killed her. He saw the moment it struck and bled and destroyed her. But it was better. Had to be. This way…he hurt her first and she couldn't hurt him. Right?

But it was a double edged sword after all. He killed her and killed himself too. Because he did love her. Had always loved her. And lying about it nearly killed him.

And hurting her did kill him. It killed some part of him that had always known or wondered or wanted her to be the one for him. It wasn't Ada that held him back. Not really. It was him. Loving her would kill him. It would expose him for the fraud that he was. She would see the emptiness in him. And the anger. And the fear. And the naïve hope. And she would have the power to kill him with it.

She he killed her first.

Claire slid off the table. She picked up her shirt from the floor.

"I should go."

"Claire…" He grabbed her arm and she looked at him. She just looked at him until he let go.

"…you could have lied I guess. You could have fucked me and lied. You didn't. I can appreciate that."

"Don't. I'm not some fucking gentleman. Don't do that."

"I have to go now. I'm sorry. I just…I have to go."

"Claire…what can I do? How do I make this right?"

"This isn't your fault. It's mine. I know it's mine. You've never done…it's me. I'll be ok. Guys…they don't last long when they love me right? So it's better that you don't. It's better."

She all but ran out of his house.

He'd done it. He'd avoided falling in love with her. He'd killed that shit before it got out of hand. They were better for it.

They were better for it.

The lie chased him around the kitchen and offered him no solace as he tumbled into bed.

…..

Rome, 2017

Claire was in Rome for a meeting with the BSAA European branch. She knew he was headed to Vito De Mare for work. She had bits and pieces of information regarding what he was up to. Chris and Jill were tagging along. It had to do with apprehending Gomez.

She had been surprised that he called.

They hadn't ended things well the last time she'd seen him. She'd fled, broken and sad and wounded. She'd limped off to lick her wounds alone in her loft in New York. She'd come up for air three weeks later.

She wasn't mad at him. Had never been mad at him. His honesty had been good. It had allowed her to start to heal and close the door on him. It was the right thing to do. She would work toward getting over him now. He didn't love her.

He didn't love her.

It would be ok.

He stepped out of the café and turned toward her. He was dressed in a red collared shirt and black slacks. His black shoulder holster looked amazing against all that red. He had on aviator glasses with reflective silver lenses. It would be ok.

Liar.

She died looking at him.

They didn't run to each other and hug.

It was the first time ever that they didn't. They were both aware of the awkwardness when they approached in the street. He offered her the pretty white oleander that he held in his hand. She took it, smiling at him.

"Charmer."

"I have my moments."

She looked beautiful. As always. She was in a yellow lacy dress with a petty black bolero jacket over it. She had ice pick heels in silver that laced up her perfect calves and stopped at her knees. Her hair was curly and caught the sunlight like rubies.

"You look beautiful. Kate Spade?"

His knowledge of fashion was adorable. She smiled a little. "Yep." She touched his shirt sleeve, "Armani?"

"What else?" She could see the hesitance in his face. She hated this awkwardness between them.

"How have you been?"

He shrugged a little, "Good actually. Pretty good. You?"

"Fine." She sniffed the oleander, "I'm surprised you called."

"Yeah," He went with his gut and said, "I missed you."

She closed her eyes. And the pain on her face nearly killed him where he stood. What regrets would always be inside him for her? Too many.

"I missed you too." She said it casually and tried smiling with humor. There was no bitterness in her, just sadness. It made it worse somehow, "How was Canada?"

"Cold."

"I'm sure you loved that."

"I did, yeah. You would have died, Claire. The minke whales, the orca…we took a tour to watch them once the mission was done. You should have seen it. Amazing."

"You went whale watching with your team?"

"No. With Rebecca," He smiled a little, "She'd never seen a whale up close before. She squealed like a little girl."

And there it was.

On his face. There it was. There was the look she'd been afraid of. Rebecca.

"Rebecca?"

"Yeah. Chambers? Rebecca Chambers."

Rebecca.

His face said there was more to Rebecca than whale watching. His face said there was more to all of it then that. Her belly hurt as she said, "You did more than watch whales."

And there it was again. That look. What was that? But she knew, of course she knew, it was guilt. He glanced down at her and there was guilt. Yeah. There was more to Rebecca.

"Oh." She put her hand to her belly now, "Oh. I see."

"Claire.."

She shook her head and stepped away from him into the shadow of a building. She leaned back on the wall. She breathed a little. "So I wasn't good enough. But Rebecca Chambers was. She gets in under the wire right? How long did you wait to fuck her? She showed up at your place like a few days after I left right? You fuck her right away?"

Oh yeah he did. His face said everything.

"So me…me who's stood by and let you squish me all these years. Who's loved and cared for you…I wasn't good enough for that first roll in the hay. But she was? Was it good? I bet it was good."

Claire moved away from the wall. "I can't do this with you anymore."

"Claire!" He grabbed her arm and held her still. "Don't. I never lied to you. I never meant to hurt you. Don't do this. I love you."

"Stop it."

"I do! I love you. You're the only person in the world I can say that to."

She met his eyes. "You waited what? Two days? I've always loved you. Always. And you just gave it away to the first uncomplicated girl that stuck her hand in your pants. Is that it?"

His face was so pained. She nearly died from hurting her.

"And what about now? What about now, Leon? You love her?"

And the truth of it echoed between them in silence.

"You son of a bitch."

"Claire, don't do this."

"It's done, Leon. You're right. Maybe I'm stupid. Maybe I'm the fool here. You coward. You jumped in the sack with someone who you knew wouldn't try to do anything but love you. I bet that feels good, doesn't it? She's a sweet girl, Rebecca. Simple and kind. You could do worse. I won't fucking toast you at your wedding. Nope. You don't deserve that. You coward. You chase one girl that you can't have and one that you'll never love. You think you'll love Rebecca? You can't love Rebecca. You can't love anyone. Not fully. Not completely. That takes risk. And you're a big hero…and a big coward." She shook his hand off, "You get what you want here. You get your simple girl. You get rid of the baggage from me. I won't keep chasing you. Unlike you, I know when enough is enough."

"Claire, you are my best friend. I need you." He said it so simply, so brokenly.

She shook her head, "No. I'm just the girl you kept waiting in the wings all these years because you were too much of a coward to try to have something real. She'll make you happy. She'll never push you for more. She'll never ask too much. You won't have to wonder if she'll hurt you. She's probably everything you could ever want. I wish you both happiness. I really, really do."

"Claire," He grabbed her hand and their tattoos touched, "Please. How do I fix it? How?"

"You can't. It's broken. Just deal with that and move on. That's what you do when someone you love hurts you. You fucking move on. Go bury yourself between her thighs and forget about it. I'm sure you've done it before. Don't you worry about me. I have a way of getting over the men who try to break me. That's what strong people do. We deal with it. And we don't hide our heads in the sand and cry. Don't call me. I mean it. We're done here."

She raced out into the street and away.

He watched her go and he was pretty sure he'd fall apart if he took a step. He was pretty sure he'd shatter like glass and fall apart. So, he leaned on the wall and he just bled inside.

….

Chesapeake Bay, 2018

The door of the cabin opened. She didn't think he'd show up. She honestly didn't.

She hadn't seen him since the day they'd brought his daughter to him. She'd backed off, backed away, and left him to heal. She'd wanted to guide him, hold him, help him. She wanted to beg him to forgive her for hurting him that day in the street.

She'd been so heartbroken, so sad. She'd lashed out and ran away. And Rebecca had died. And he'd nearly died. And she'd nearly died from the pain of it.

So the door of the cabin opened and in he came.

The hair was nearly back to perfect. It fell around his face like liquid gold. The sunglasses on his face were polarized orange and perfect. The smile was even better.

"I didn't know if you'd be here."

"I didn't know if you'd come."

He was wearing a white v-neck t-shirt and khaki shorts. He wore leather sandals on his feet. And he carried the most perfect little girl in his arms with curly blonde hair.

She was gorgeous. And had to be close to a year old now. She wore a little pink sundress and had tiny white sandals on her feet. Claire glanced at him and then at her.

And then she said, "Hi Faith. I'm Claire. You want to come here for a minute so your Daddy can get your bags?"

She put her hands out.

Faith stared at her. Claire was in her pink bikini top and some white shorts. She felt like she was under inspection by the attorney general for war crimes. She waited, nervous. Faith glanced up at Leon who smiled at her. "Your choice, kiddo." And finally the little girl put her arms out.

Feeling like she'd won a great victory, Claire took her.

Faith studied her while she held her.

Leon set bags inside the door and then noticed something that kept his interest for a moment. Claire had set up a pack n' play for his kid. She had a box of diapers sitting there, wipes, bottles. And a pack n' play. She hadn't even known that he'd show up.

Touched, he glanced over at them.

They were staring at each other in curiousity. Faith grabbed a lock of her red hair and yanked. Claire winced but said nothing. Faith tugged again and Claire said, "Ouch."

And his daughter laughed. She giggled that delighted sound that babies make when they are amused. She tugged again. Sensing the game, Claire upped the hamming a bit. She exclaimed, "Ouchie!"

Faith leaned in and kissed her mouth.

Claire glanced at him and her eyes were a little teary. "Can I keep her?"

"Sorry. I kinda love her." He rubbed a hand against the cross under his shirt as he went into the kitchen to make lemonade. Claire played with the baby like a pro. Peekaboo. Eat the feeties. She was excellent with her.

They were easy with each other in a way they hadn't been in a long time. They joked, laughing. They made dinner and went swimming. Someone on the beach remarked about how Faith "looked just like her mama". Touched, Claire blushed.

She watched from the kitchen as he broke out the guitar and sang his daughter to sleep. Would there ever be a time that she didn't love him? Could she sit by and watch him find someone else, love someone else, and lose him again? She couldn't, wouldn't, regret Rebecca. Not now. Not looking at what she'd given him. She'd seen the cross, she knew she'd someday have the courage to ask about it. He wasn't a religious man. So it was clearly deeper than that.

Rebecca had done more than given him Faith. She'd given him faith. It resonated around him. He was more complete now than Claire had ever seen him. She wasn't sure there was a place, anymore, in her life for him.

Maybe it was time to let him go.

She didn't think she could keep sitting in support of him while he found someone else. She didn't think her heart would survive it twice. She'd lost him to Ada. She'd lost him to Rebecca. She couldn't lose him again. She just wasn't that strong.

Whatever else happened, she knew she couldn't live without him in her life. She couldn't play second fiddle forever. Because she had a hole in her heart in the shape of Leon Kennedy and she couldn't fill it with anyone else.

When Faith was asleep, he set the guitar aside.

He found her on the back porch of the cabin, looking out over the beach and the cloudless sky. A cool breeze came off the bay, bringing the fine scent of coming rain and the healing power of summer. He sat next to her in the accompanying rocking chair.

They rocked for awhile together in silence.

"Do you want to tell me about Rebecca?"

He turned his head to look at her. "Do you want to hear about her?"

She stared out into the bay, watching the moonlight silver the water as the soft waves came in. Maybe it was time to let him go without regret. She turned her head to look at him.

"Did you love her?"

And he answered, "Yes."

She nodded, feeling the spark of tears in her eyes. "Ok."

"You couldn't not love her. She was good, kind, loyal. She was the mother of that little girl in there. Of course I loved her. Had she lived, I would have married her."

Claire nodded and the first spill of tears fell. She wiped her cheeks. "I'm sorry. I'm stupid." She laughed a little, "This is hard for me."

"I know that." The sound of the water was comforting. He rose, "Wait here."

She watched the waves, listening to the sound of it as it rushed in and back out. Was there anything else like it in the world? Was there anything else that filled the soul with such peace? She closed her eyes and listened.

He sat down in the chair beside her again with his guitar.

"I had a talk with Rebecca this morning while I was getting stuff together to come out here. I asked her if it was ok if I moved on." He strummed a few chords, "It's been so hard. Raising Faith helps. She kept me distracted when it would get bad at night. But it wasn't hard for me to remember that Rebecca loved me. She just…she loved me…and there was no malice in it. There was no pain. There was just…light. She would die if she was here and saw the mess I'd let myself become before Faith came to me. She would kill me if I never…moved on."

He started the song on his guitar, "So I don't always have the right words…but somebody else usually does…"

And because music punctuated their friendship from the very beginning; it turned out he had the words they needed right then as well. She gripped her hands in her lap and watched him while he sang. Was there any way she couldn't love him?

But I never told you…what I should have said…no I never told you…I just held it in…I miss everything about you…can't believe that I still want you..after all the things that we've been through….I miss everything about you…

This man who sang his daughter to sleep. Who'd pushed so fast, so far, and nearly died. Who wore scars that made him beautiful and had a soul to match. She was so far gone that she figured she'd probably die from it, if one could die from regret.

I see your blue eyes, every time I close mine...you make it hard to see…where I belong to, when I'm not around you…it's like I'm not with me…

The song ended and he smiled at her. "I don't know if it would have made a difference all those years ago in Raccoon. Maybe it would have. Maybe I had to go through everything I've gone through to get here. I can't regret it, Claire. I can't. But I can regret never saying what I should have said to you a thousand times."

He offered his hand, she took it and their tattoos touched.

"Keep fighting right?"

She smiled, teary eyed. "Right."

"Come inside."

He lifted her up and brought her inside with him. He led her into the bedroom. She closed the door behind them and leaned back against the door breathing hard and fast.

The little Echo Dot on his dresser was playing that song. THAT SONG.

Lucky.

She met his eyes in the semi-darkness. "I need to hear you say it."

He tugged her against him and danced. They danced there in the bedroom. She put her head on his shoulder.

"I love you, Claire. I've always loved you. I wasn't ready before…but I'm ready now. So what do you say?"

She lifted her head and met his eyes. They held, held. And she said, "I need to know it. That once we do this..it has to be everything, Leon. I can't have it otherwise. I think I'd die. And..I want to have more children."

"Claire…I don't know any other way but all the way. I'm in." He smiled, brilliant and rich in the candlelight. "Based on the one in the other room…I think I can do that. You got a time frame in mind for that?"

She pushed. He let her. He fell backwards onto the bed and bounced. She climbed atop him and took his face in her hands. They kissed, soft, smooth. Her belly rolled.

The boy in the uniform, the girl on the train…twenty years to find their way to each other. She had no regrets either. She couldn't.

They'd found their way here and every step along that road had let to it.

They rolled over the bed, lost in each other. The boy in the uniform, the girl on the train. The press of their naked bodies together, finally, was slow and soft and perfect. She lay there, for a long moment, feeling him against her. She could feel the press of his chest, his hips, the length of his leg. She put her hands on his back and stroked him. He cupped her face and kissed, long and deep and wet.

She held his gaze and gave him an answer, "How does now work for you?"

He grabbed her hands, put them above their heads and held tight. He slid into her in a single, slow, breath stealing dive. They both made some sound of completion. "I think now is just about right."

And he finally, totally, and utterly opened the door and let in the girl on that train. The timing, finally, was completely right.


End file.
